


a constant reminder of where I can find her, a light that might give up the way

by RainbowRandomness



Series: weep for yourself, my man [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, headcanon AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 07:06:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1973472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowRandomness/pseuds/RainbowRandomness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sometimes there is a girl, with brown hair that flows down to her shoulders, wild and untamed, and her eyes reflect his own.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	a constant reminder of where I can find her, a light that might give up the way

**Author's Note:**

> not as good as the first fic I wrote about Peter, Helen and Malia, but this idea has been circling my brain for the past day or so and I thought I would attempt to write it.
> 
> Title from the song _Reminder_ by Mumford  & Sons

On the few occasions that Peter Hale dreams, he often dreams of a woman.

He can never quiet remember what she looks like, but sometimes certain features stick out to him; the curve of her lips painted red, caramel eyes that watch him curiously, flowing brown locks that cascade down past her shoulders. He will remember her laugh, how her nails will match the colour of her lips, sometimes he remembers how her body feels against his when he wraps his arms around her and holds her still.

He doesn’t remember who she is though, how he knows her or why he feels a crushing sadness when he wakes up after dreaming of her.

The mystery woman from his dreams changes from dream to dream. Most of the time, she’s smiling and he can’t see her eyes as she takes his hand and leads him into the forest, telling him they’ll run away together. On a few occasions, her stomach is swollen and he can see her eyes, half lidded as she stokes her stomach gently. Sometimes he manages to place his hand above hers and feels the growing life within her kick against his touch, the baby’s heartbeat ringing in his ears.

Sometimes there is a girl, with brown hair that flows down to her shoulders, wild and untamed, and her eyes reflect his own. She can only be around four or five years old and she holds the woman’s hand and watches him from within the enclosure of the woods, never getting closer no matter how many times Peter runs towards them.

Peter doesn’t tell anyone about the dreams. Talia gives him concerned looks at the breakfast table in the mornings, no doubt having heard Peter waking in the night with a gasp or a sob after dreaming of the mystery woman and child. He brushes her off, tells her he keeps having nightmares and she worries at her bottom lip before attending to her children, making sure they are dressed and ready to go to school.

There is an occasion when Peter is out in the woods, running around aimlessly to waste time, when he catches the faint scent of something familiar. He doesn’t know what it is, is confused as to what it could be and how he would recognize it, but the scent is there none the less, and he darts off into the trees, following the scent as best he can.

The scent takes him further and deeper into the woods, until the trees begin to thin and leave open spaces, panning out from one another to reveal open land. From where Peter is standing, he can see a road that connects to a dirt track that eventually leads to a wooden house, in need of a fresh coat of paint and some fix ups, but is obviously lived in by the looks of a truck outside and noises coming from within.

He ignores the house and continues following the scent, stronger around this area, and he tries to dissect what he can smell; the scent of cut grass, of fur and animal blood, of dirt and guilt and something like home, of a confused child unsure of what to do. He runs and he runs until he happens upon the wreckage of a car turned over in a ditch, dirt and rust covering the metal frame as weeds and other plant life grow over it and hides it from sight. He walks over to it cautiously, eyes raking over the crushed metal frame as he sniffs the air, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he smells the scent of a coyote, which tugs at his memories but he can’t quite place.

Walking past the wreckage of the car, he glances back at it and notices a small baby doll, a toy for a child, and looks at its tattered clothing and dirt smudged cheeks before moving on past the trees.

Eventually, he happens upon a den, hidden away by a thick collection of trees, but he doesn’t step any closer. He can see the opening between the rocks from where he is standing within the tree line, can see the hanging vines that hang from the rocks that conceal the entrance from view. If he smells the air, he can smell the scent of a young coyote, of the blood of prey and a mixture of other things, one of them being the scent of something familiar that he can’t place. He tries to think of why it all seems so familiar, as if he knows the coyote that must live here, but his mind hurts and he thinks of the girl from his dreams, the one who looks like the woman she holds hands with and he knows them, he’s sure he does, but how? Who are they to him? Why can’t he remember them?

He leaves shortly after, not wanting to be there when the coyote returns, and he runs home, thoughts whizzing through his mind as he tried to connect his dreams to the car wreckage, the coyote den, the familiar scent. Peter is quite at dinner, hardly touching his food as his nephew and nieces tuck in, picking on each other and talking about their day, their father listening with a smile and a nod in the right places, replying when there is a gap in his children’s speech. Talia smiles at them, love and adoration in her eyes, but sometimes her gaze flickers over to him and her brows furrow, lips thinning as if she is thinking, as if she is trying to figure him out. He ignores her imploring glances, finishes dinner early and leaves to sit out on the back porch and watch the stars until his eyes grow heavy and he drags himself up to bed.

Peter dreams of them that night, as he expected he would. The woman is sitting at the base of a tree as Peter comes through the tree line, her back against the bark and her red lips tilted into a small smile. Her arms are crossed beneath her chest, and although he cannot see her eyes, he knows that she is watching something, someone, in front of her. He follows her gaze until he sees the young girl, her small body moving feral like as she climbs a tree, apparently chasing a squirrel. Her hand swipes up as if to grab the bushy tail of the animal before it darts further up the tree, and before the young girl can continue her climb to chase after it, Peter is there, taking hold of her and bringing her down to cradle her against his chest.

He looks up the truck of the tree, searching for the squirrel before he feels claws against the skin of his arm, and he looks down, eyes widening as he notices the small claws protruding from the girls fingers that are now currently buried into his forearm, blood welling up from the pricks.

But what really surprises him is when he looks up to the child’s face and sees that her eyes are glowing gold.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on twitter with @RainbowRandoms and on tumblr with Rainbow-Randomness


End file.
